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יונתן קרא
/ Pain Killer

It drove him mad. He might kill someone today. Well, that
was not so hard to guess - he kills every day. He walked
along the alley leading to the old place, where they used to
sit and share their lives.
Or was it lies? It was hard to tell the difference now
days...
He used to dance to the sounds of a happy flute or a merry
violin once, now he danced the dance of swords and death.
None would stand in his path to redemption. He must do
what's good for all, and if killing would achieve that
goal... well, killing is easier than most other things in
life.
He couldn't stand the happy music of the dance in the hall
any longer. He quickened his pace, getting closer to where
he meant to do the last ceremony to end his eternal pain.
None would stand in his path for redemption.
He already saw the white stained tree, and now their usual
seat, where she showed him... what was it? He barely
remembered. Only an emotion of great power that overwhelmed
him when the memory rose from the grave of his tortured
soul.
He could almost see her, sitting there, her beautiful and
scented hair luring him, light brown curls that matched the
overwhelming eyes that owned him. A half sad smile on her
face, crushed his heart again. But he suffered now, for he
knew that tonight it would end. Her tender body attracted
him like never before, his spirit yearned for her touch. In
her slender hands she held it, pulsing steadily, bleeding on
the floor. His heart was still in her hands, it was still
pulsing with pain.
He could feel every heart beat, every movement of her
fingers. She heedlessly played its strings, ripped piece by
piece, unknowing for the grave consequences of her game.
He approached, looking at the scene with eyes wet with pain;
he reached for the sword at his side, and raised it high
above his head. There was no fear in her eyes, she didn't
seem to notice his looming presence. As the sword went down,
he embraced himself, as he drove it through his heart, never
touching her, only killing him from her.
The pain was immense. It almost drove him insane. He lost
his grip on the sword, leaving his heart to die with it.
Suddenly he was on his knees, the world was spinning, all
around the colors changed, turned, he could barely see his
own hands in front of him. He felt his head touch the
ground, all the noises and sites faded to a blessed
unconsciousness.
He could only hope tomorrow would be different...



היצירה לעיל הנה בדיונית וכל קשר בינה ובין
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.
בבמה מאז 7/2/04 15:21
האתר מכיל תכנים שיתכנו כבלתי הולמים או בלתי חינוכיים לאנשים מסויימים.
אין הנהלת האתר אחראית לכל נזק העלול להגרם כתוצאה מחשיפה לתכנים אלו.
אחריות זו מוטלת על יוצרי התכנים. הגיל המומלץ לגלישה באתר הינו מעל ל-18.
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